The White Wolf
by LiteralBlue
Summary: The King of Hyrule is dead, Link is locked in the sacred realm and Princess Zelda, rightful heir to the throne of Hyrule, is on the run with just a single soldier to serve her. She may only be a child, but revenge is on her mind and she has only two choices: to fight or to die.
1. Chapter 1

Princess Zelda was nine years old the first time she met Gerudo leader. She disliked him immediately but as she could find no immediate reason why, she brushed that aside and was as courteous to him as a princess should be to a high-ranked visiting diplomat. She did not quite afford him the respect she would have given to a foreign king, though he called himself one. In that she was following her father's example. Rather, he was treated as an ambassador of great importance. He in turn was polite but dismissive. She accepted that as an unfortunate but unavoidable side-effect of her age. At least he did not try to bribe her with dolls and sweets as many who did not know her had. He was very large, not just in muscle but in presence. Something about him drew the eye.

She sat by her father's side during the formal greeting and farewell, and those were the only occasions on which he addressed her directly. He did not meet privately with her father. 'Privately' had always included her own presence. The king did not see her as a child, but rather as an apprentice, a ruler in training to be shown every stage of every move he made so that she would learn how to make moves of her own. She rarely spoke or was spoken to at such times, but her steady blue eyes saw everything.

As soon as the Gerudo horses were out of view of the castle gates the king, with a slight gesture of his hand, indicated for her to follow him to his own study. "What do you think of him?" He asked when they were alone together.

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly. "He makes me feel uneasy, but… for no reason I can think of."

"He wants to conquer Hyrule," the king told her with a smile. "That's why he came. To size us up." Zelda said nothing. The king continued, "He says he wants the Gerudo to become a more independent province. Perhaps completely autonomous, eventually. He says that's all he wants, and he thinks I believe him."

He paused. Zelda asked, "What else does he think?"

"That our army could not withstand an invasion from a large, organised force. That the Sheikah are no more than a thinning group of over-glorified bodyguards whose true strength has long since faded. And that the people of this kingdom would never bow to a man who had taken the throne by overthrowing us."

"It seems like he thinks right," she said quietly. He nodded. "Do we act?"

"Act how? What are our options?"

She recognised the test in his voice. "We could do nothing. It might make him underestimate us. We could try to prepare secretly to defend against an invasion, but the men and money and space it would take to restore the army would never stay secret for long. We could send spies to his land, see what he has, gain a clearer view of his plans, but the Gerudo are very good at spotting spies, and there are few Sheikah left to send. We could try to appease him, give him the desert to rule, and perhaps some of the fertile lands nearby. It could make us look weak. We could try to bind him to us somehow, incur a great debt or a high-ranking marriage…" she paused, watching his face. Something there had changed. Even at that age she could read faces extraordinarily well, but never her father. "That's what you're thinking," she guessed. "Arrange a marriage. And since he thinks himself a king, only a princess would do." Her voice was totally flat.

"It seems to be the easiest solution," the king admitted. "He'd have the kingdom. So would you. It would still be you that the people followed. And, unlike if he conquered us by force, he would have the people's good wishes."

"You really think he could conquer us?"

The king did not immediately reply. Instead he poked at the low fire, then went to lean out of the high window and look down on the town spread out below, laid out against the smooth green backdrop of the kingdom. Eventually he nodded. "He's right, you see," he said with a just a trace of regret. "We've been so safe all these years, we have so little of an army, and those we do have never faced a battle wilder than a tavern brawl or a wandering stalchild. The Sheikah lines are failing, and many of their secrets have been lost. No, my child. If he attacked us with an army of Gerudo the kingdom would not bow to him, but you and I would fall. But he is not a fool. By marrying the heir to the throne he avoids the struggle, the killing, the war and the resentment to follow."

"And sacrifices much of his power to me."

"Ah, but he doesn't know that. He looks at you and sees only a young girl. One with a crown waiting for her, yes, but still a child. He probably expects you to find a husband and hand him the reins. I'd like him to keep thinking that until after he's sworn you vows. For all his ambitions, he's a man of honour. Desert honour, at least. Let him see the reins before you take them."

"So it's arranged?" She could not quite keep the apprehension from her voice. He jerked away from the window as if stung.

"Of course not! You think I'd make such a decision on my own? No. It's only an idea. I just wanted you to understand, it seems to be the best idea. I won't marry you off to someone you wouldn't have by choice. You _do _understand."

"I do."

"Good."

He sat, leaning forwards to look closely into her eyes and she managed him a small smile that completely disguised how shaken she felt. He said nothing. He'd already made it her suggestion. Now he was going to make it her initiative. The King of Hyrule had no scruples about manipulating his child. "How long do I have?" She asked eventually.

"Until?"

"Until I decide if I'll have him."

The look he gave her was an odd mix of kingly satisfaction and fatherly approval. "Until shortly before it's too late for anything else," he said, then laughed at the look she gave him. "You look like your mother when you glare like that."

"Were you so vague when she had to make a decision?"

"I was never deliberately unhelpful."

"That's not exactly what I asked."

"You speak like a woman with five times your years."

"And you dance around the point like a teacher who has run out of answers."

He yielded gracefully, leaning over to brush aside a stray lock of her hair. It had been a very long day, and it was only noon. "I leave it in your hands," he said eventually. "Trusting you will have the wisdom not to leave it too late."

She accepted that, and hoped that 'too late' would not come too early. Never once had it struck her as strange that such weighty decisions were being placed on the shoulders of a nine-year-old girl. She had simply never thought of herself that way. She had never been a child, not really; she had never been anything less substantial and significant than the early stages of a queen.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew. She knew he knew. He was looking at her differently. She refused to admit to herself that it made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. A year had passed since she had agreed to consider the Gerudo leader as a possible future husband, and now he was back at court and from the way he watched her, listened carefully to her every word and kept half his attention on her whenever she was near him, he was considering her as a wife. He was wondering how easy it would be to wrest control from her. She was wondering the same thing about him. She had tried several times to eavesdrop on his conversations with the lords of the court, but the only mention of herself had been that she looked a lot like her mother, and was therefore likely to grow up beautiful; he hadn't even provoked the comment. Mostly he spoke about the castle, the grounds, the food and his horses. In fact, he could speak well about any topic his companions raised, but whenever politics or the military were mentioned he would deftly steer the talk in a different direction. He knew she was trying to measure him. She very much doubted he still considered her just a child. By now he had learned of her quick mind, her advanced education, her sharp political awareness and her maturity. She in turn had learned very little of him. The spy they had sent to the Gerudo had sent one report, that little seemed different among the tribes on the outskirts of the desert, and not been heard from since. The desert had swallowed many people. It did not have to mean treachery.

Officially he was there to swear fealty to the King, as the rulers of all the kingdom's provinces did once every year, but his presence had changed. Rather than the richly embroidered desert robes of his last visit he now wore armour, complete with a sword. Oh, many of the lords wore weapons, ornate and beautiful and ultimately less than half the use of a weapon of simple honest steel, but the transition was there. On his last visit he had carried only a polished wooden staff of office. Now he appeared as a man of the military.

His dark eyes swung to her, but she had been watching him in a mirror. Still appearing to be focussed on the other end of the room she saw him watch her over the shoulder of the lady who had been speaking without pause for the last several minutes. Nonchalantly she sipped her glass of watered-down wine and timed him; it was nearly a minute before he looked away. The whole time he had been watching her face. She'd done her best to look distracted, gazing out of the window with what most people would interpret as the boredom of a child at an adults' gathering, not the cunning of a watcher who missed nothing. She didn't like these events much; in a few hours all the high nobles of the land would come one by one to kneel before the king and renew their vows of loyalty and obedience. The Gerudo would be among them. For now, though, they just milled about drinking wine and talking politics. Nobody spoke to her at times like this; they deemed her too young for their usual conversation, even those who had seen the way she was being raised. Occasionally she would be approached by a well-mannered and richly dressed boy not too much older than her, who would then stumblingly flatter her until she politely and kindly thanked them and found an excuse to leave. She was intimately familiar with the five hundred year reign of her family, and knew that it was rare indeed for a princess to marry an ally's son. The allegiances tended to come _after_ the weddings. Most of them had given up, or at least decided to approach her father rather than her.

She jerked when a hand rested on her shoulder, but did not spill her drink. Her father smiled down on her. "Pink," he said thoughtfully. She glanced down at her dress. She preferred blues and greens, darker colours, but on this occasion her dressmaker had attempted to make her look as feminine as was possible for a girl not quite eleven. 'Feminine' was one of the few attributes asked of her that she had never been able to fully embrace, but she could at least imitate it convincingly. "Very pretty." She nodded. It felt more like thanks than a compliment. "But you look tired," he added. She nodded to that too. She'd put powder on her face in an attempt to hide the dark rings forming under her eyes, but it could only do so much in the face of weeks of turbulent sleep.

"I didn't sleep well. I had a bad dream," she said truthfully. She did not add that it was the same dream as she had the night before that, and before that and before that. She did not say what she thought it could mean. The women of her family had sometimes been blessed with the gift of vague foresight, but she was much younger than any of them had been when the gift would first appear.

"Perhaps you could get some sleep before the vows."

"That would be…" she was about to say inappropriate, but then this was the rare occasion where she did not sit at her father's side. Their vows were to the reigning king alone. And the noise was becoming oppressive and the dress was truly very hot. She glanced again around the many mirrors of the room until she located the Gerudo. He was watching her again, but this time with a slightly wary expression. She suspected he was a little worried about how well her father was training her, and how much they shared. "That would be welcome," she said eventually. He nodded, and let her go without announcement.

Impa was waiting for her in the corridor, but had probably been listening. Impa seemed always to be near Zelda at these occasions, but only visible if the princess looked for her. If Zelda did not look specifically and attentively, she never saw the Sheikah warrior. "Princess. To bed for a little while?"

"No. Outside." Zelda led the way. It was an unnecessarily long and winding path to the castle's inner gardens; the place had been built to be a maze for anyone wishing to go further than the throne room. The result was that the pretty flower beds and pools visible from any window were rarely intruded upon by anybody who had not spent their life exploring Hyrule Castle. Presumably there were also gardeners, but they must have worked outside of Zelda's hours. The distant sound of metal clinking as soldiers patrolled far away blended with the tame running streams to create something peaceful. She sat on a stone bench and patted the space beside her for Impa. It was just a polite habit; Impa was the princess's protector, and considered herself constantly on duty. She rarely sat in her charge's presence.

It was shaded here; Zelda sat back and loosened the collar of her dress, then shook her skirt to get cool air to her legs. Petticoats. She hated them, and the older she got the more there seemed to be. She often wondered why adult dresses were so restrictive. Perhaps it was to discourage the wearers from doing anything more physically demanding than being helped side-saddle onto a horse; 'physically demanding' seemed to be strongly linked to 'unseemly' for ladies grown.

"Perhaps you could nap here," Impa suggested. Zelda shook her head, which loosened the turban-like headdress. She pulled it off.

"It's waiting for me, Impa. Whenever I close my eyes it's there. It doesn't matter when or where I sleep."

"And you haven't told your father."

"That I dreamed of a dark cloud and assumed it to be a particular man? No. As for the second part of the dream… it's nonsense. I know it means _something_, but I can't tell him until I've worked it all out."

"The boy with the fairy?"

"Yes. The boy from Kokori. But the Kokori can't leave the forest, so how can he come? He must be a symbol. A cloud that means a man, and a boy who means a…" She signed, rubbing her eyes. "I don't know. I'd not have given it a second thought if it would only stop _bothering _me. And it grows sharper every time. I feel like it's leading me to something. But I'm so tired, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks and it really means nothing at all."

"The Sheikah say no dream means nothing, princess. There's a lot to be gained from looking closely at the images your mind presents to you." Zelda looked up at Impa, a woman of indeterminable age and unmistakable strength. In her obvious capability as a warrior it was easy to forget she had also received the full spiritual education of the Sheikah. On the front of her breastplate was the tribe's symbol, the Eye of Truth, leaking a single tear. She'd often wondered what it wept for. She suspected it was because it had found what it was looking for, a way of staring into the soul, and had realised something unpleasant about the soul in question. She shook her head again. She was tired; that was why her mind was doing this. She realised that the shadows on the flower beds had moved; she wondered how long she had been sat staring at the Eye.

"Shall we return?" Impa offered. Zelda stood, straightening her clothes but as she did so the wind seized her headdress from the bench and blew it high over the wall. Zelda mentally cursed the fine silk. "I'll-" Impa began, but Zelda was already on her way. Sleepiness had swept away more than a little of control, and she did not relish the idea of going back in anything less than the condition than she left in. She marched past a surprised guard, under a vine-woven archway and into what she realised was the garden directly outside the throne room. Nobody was near the window; she realised the ceremony had begun. She picked up her turban and set it back on her head, but just as she turned to hurry back something caught her eye. Dark skin, dark armour, fiery red hair. She edged closer to the window as he came forward and sank calmly to one knee. Leaning carefully and trying to keep out of sight, she watched him speak the oath slowly and sincerely. It did not seem right; he did not act like a man who willingly knelt to anyone.

There was a noise behind her. She assumed it to be Impa, and so jumped and almost cried out when a child's voice said her name, and then nearly fainted when she turned and saw the boy as though he had walked straight out of the dreams that had been haunting her, even down to the fairy hovering over his right shoulder.

The Hall of Relics was one of the best-hidden rooms in the castle, only accessible from a passage behind a tapestry in the king's own bedchamber. Its crown piece was the blue ocarina set with gold, which Princess Zelda held in her hands as she thought.

His name was Link.

He was not a Kokori, she knew simply because he had left the forest and was still alive, and yet the fairy who accompanied him was both real and loyal. She had never before heard of a fairy serving a human. It had told her that the Great Deku Tree was dead. Link had repeated the Tree's last words to her, a tale of a man from the desert and a dark cloud that would spread over all of Hyrule. It sounded far too much like her dream.

She had not told her father. She had not gone to the ceremony. She had sat until sunset talking to the boy, and her heart was turbulent. The Gerudo had sworn his oaths and agreed to stay for a few weeks more, ostensibly to better get to know the kingdom of which he was a part, but in truth he was waiting for her. So was her father. She suspected they both knew she was nearly ready to make her decision. It was the most exhausting decision she had ever made, but the Goddesses had sent her enough signs. If Hyrule made an enemy of the Gerudo this dark cloud would spread, infecting the land like a disease. To stop that, she would marry him.

Unless…

Link had been carrying the Spiritual Stone of the Forest. It was more than a relic; like the instrument she held in her hand, it was imbibed with powers of its own. It was one third of the power needed to enter the sacred realm, home of the powers, weapons and creatures of ancient legend. She knew where all three had been kept; the knowledge was a royal right, and so with marriage it would pass on to the Gerudo too. But Link, who was sweet and eager and determined and so very _brave_, had suggested to her a way of safeguarding the kingdom, a way of protecting against the future foreseen by both her and the tree. By gathering the other two stones, those of Fire and Water, he could take away the Gerudo's access to the realm and place that power in the hands of the princess alone. That way if she found after marriage that she could not control him, she should be old and strong enough to open the gate and take the power of the realm, giving her a good chance of bringing him in line. Or, if he decided to take that power for his own, he would find the stones missing from their original hiding places and the doors of the Sacred Realm closed to him. It was the perfect safeguard, she thought to herself. It meant the deception of her father, but also the protection of the kingdom. It meant that she could marry him with absolute confidence that whilst he would never invade a kingdom he already technically owned, he would not be able to oppose his wife and queen either, and even if he did call upon his armies she would be able to equip her own.

It was a failsafe upon a failsafe upon a failsafe, she told herself. He made her uneasy, yes, but there was still a chance – a large one, since there were far more good men than evil ones in the world – that once he had her promise he would settle into his role and become a good king. But she had seen Link's eyes as they talked. He was a lot like her, she thought: young but wise. It was a mystery. She had become the way she was through years of careful upbringing and education. With Link it seemed simply built into his soul. Having lived in a forest all his twelve years he was able to listen to her dreams and the words of the dying Great Deku Tree and see what they could mean. He was amazingly determined, clever and resourceful; he had promised to retrieve the stones for her, and she had no doubt he would be able to, but she would not be able to wash from his memory the death of his home's leader, or her dream. She rather doubted she could wash it from her own without a lot more time and effort than she was willing to risk.

The ocarina was heavy in her hands, and still too large for her, but it comforted her all the same. It was a symbol of her duties and her power, and reassured her that she had the right to make the choice she made. The Deku Tree was dead, possibly from a Gerudo curse. That meant that the Gerudo might be a true enemy of Hyrule, or that he might simply be the convenient one to blame. By not telling her father of her and Link's plans she protected him from criticism if she was found out and her fears disproved. In her decision she aimed the future of the kingdom towards a peaceful future, whilst at the same time guarding against the threats of the alternative.

It was right, she assured herself. Impa had nodded with that strange look in her eyes that made Zelda feel like a champion in the presence of the trainer who would never stop questioning her, nor doubt her skills. Carefully she stood, placed the ocarina back on its pedestal and turned back to the darkened passageway that would lead her back to the world of other people. She went to find her father and tell him she had decided to marry the Gerudo Lord Ganon.


	3. Chapter 3

Zelda jerked awake from the most vivid and horrifying dream she'd ever seen, and touched her throat to reassure herself there were no one else's hands around it. It had been horrible. She always dreamed in symbols; she suspected most people did. Hers seemed largely accurate. More and more often in the month since Link had gone to retrieve the stones for her, she had dreamed of him. She'd seen the boy skipping stones over a sea of red with flowers in his hands, and the next day heard that a child had gone into the cavern under the volcanic mountains and rid it of a mighty monster. She'd had to smile at that. The leader of the gorons was a practical man who, like most of his kind, thought primarily with his stomach. If there was anything that would convince him to give up the stone it would be the promise of food from what had once been her cave. These last few nights she'd dreamed of fish. She had gone to bed smiling at the thought that he would come back soon with everything she needed to make the kingdom safe. She had dreamed of screams and running and the smell of blood. She did not even know what blood smelled like, but in the dream it had cut through her, straight to that primal part of the brain that demanded that she run, and when she had tried she was trapped. Hands seized her neck from behind and lifted her up just as she awoke.

"Impa," she said quietly, not for want of anything other than the feeling of safety that the bodyguard brought. But she did not answer. Zelda did not think too much on it, getting up and padding over to pour a glass of water with her blanket around her shoulders. "Impa?" She called again, a little louder. It was still full dark outside. Even the Sheikah slept sometimes, and Impa would occasionally have business elsewhere. After a long draught of cool water Zelda was almost recovered, and was just sitting back on her bed when she heard a cry. It was short, sharp and ended as abruptly as it had begun, but in that instant she almost felt her heart freeze. She nearly shouted for Impa, but decided it would be unwise to make too much noise. Instead she stood again and, moving as quietly as she could, opened her door and leaned out into the long hall. There was no guard on the corner. There were _always _guards on that corner. Another cry, closer and a little longer, ended with a crash. Zelda stepped back, closed the door and bolted it, then pulled the long knife from under her mattress and set it beside her as she put on her riding shoes.

Her seeming calmness came from what she considered to be the most valuable thing her father had ever taught her. _The mind is like a desk, little one. When it is cluttered with feelings it is impossible to get things done. Look at the clutter, find what is useful and keep it, then sweep the rest aside_. Fear tugged at her mind, heightened by the nightmare, but she resolutely swept it away along with tiredness and anxiety, and instead held on to a kind of determined curiosity. Part of her warned that it was the same kind of determined curiosity that convinced moths to fly into lit candles, but she brushed that aside too, and went to investigate.

Zelda's childhood as she and her father saw it had ended three years ago, the day she learned that there were people who would kill her just because she was alive. It was a tutor. He'd had kindly eyes and an encouraging manner, and had taught her much of other languages and cultures in the two months he'd been living as part of the royal household. One day he'd asked her to go up to a room at the top of a disused tower he'd been borrowing for a study and fetch him a book. He'd described in detail the long and winding path she should take to get there. Deciding that was because he was not yet familiar with the castle's layout, she'd taken a shortcut. That had saved her life, for if she had taken the route prescribed she would not have passed a single patrolling guard, and nobody would have thought it odd that the princess was heading to a part of the castle used only for storage and dust collecting. As it was, it did not occur to the guard until a few minutes after she had passed him that it was not a place she should have been going, and another short while before he decided to follow her. His longer stride was the only reason he reached her just after she had opened the door to what her tutor had told her was a small library, and come face to face with a ReDead. She'd seen its eyes, and the guard had burst in to see her in that twitching, standing fit they brought on. He was quick with a sword. The tutor vanished within the hour. The King had insisted she sleep with him in his bed that night, and the next day Impa had come, and had rarely been more than a room away since then.

Zelda had never had to physically defend herself, but Impa had given her the knife and shown her a few tricks with it. Aside from staring into the eyes of the ReDead she had never known real physical danger, and so she gripped that knife with a steady hand as she edged her way along the hall and to the stairs. Something caught her by the hair and clapped a hand over her mouth, and before she could react she was flung to the ground and for a moment the world was full of stars as her head hit the flagstones. Then she looked up to see Impa standing over the slumped body of a man in Gerudo clothing. In the moonlight through the window, the blood on her blade was black. "We have to go, princess," Impa said matter-of-factly, helping her up.

"What's happening?"

"Treachery." Impa had both a tone in her voice and a look in her eyes that Zelda had never seen before, and she suddenly realised just what the Sheikah were: the blades in the shadows ready to leap out and spill blood for the crown at any moment. The last shield of the crown, and the closest to their hearts. Impa did not waste any more time, taking Zelda's arm and half-steering her down the servants' stairs. There was not a soul in sight, but there was a body or two. The princess tried not to look at them, but could not help herself. One of them was about her age, a cook's daughter she thought. About the same height, with the same golden hair. Eventually they came out by the king's own bedroom. "My lord," Impa muttered in barely more than a whisper as she drummed her fingers on the door in a pattern just a little too precise to be random. And then she pushed open the door.

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief to see the shape of her father sleeping in his bed. It turned into a choked half-cry when the breeze from the open window fluttered the curtains and lit up the sheets. They had been white. They were black now, the same shining black as the stains on Impa's sword. Zelda knew by daylight they would be red. She got two steps towards him before her bodyguard's arms around her shoulders halted her. She didn't quite struggle, but neither did she yield. She simply continued to walk, even straining against those stronger arms to do so. "Don't," Impa said quietly. "Don't look. You don't need to see what you know." The princess found her eyes straying to the window. It had been a clear night when she went to bed, but now a dark cloud spread over the kingdom. _A dark cloud_… "We have to get out of the city," Impa whispered. "Out of the kingdom." Her arms were like iron, but warm.

"A moment," Zelda whispered. She ducked out from under Impa's arms, and the Sheikah did not attempt to catch her again when she saw that Zelda did not go to her father's body. She went instead to a tapestry on the wall, brushed it aside and disappeared into the hidden tunnel behind it, returning only a few seconds later with an ocarina in her hands. The royal family's sacred ocarina, for the royal family's sacred songs. Impa felt a deep stir of approval as she looked into the eyes of her princess. Even now she thought like a leader should. Confronted with the corpse of a king, she thought of duty. Zelda met her eyes and nodded, and they left, pausing only to close the door behind them.

Again they took the winding route, staying where the shadows were darkest until eventually they stopped in a hall only one floor above the ground. Impa opened the window. "All the doors out of the palace are being watched," she said quietly. "We'll have to climb down. The stables aren't far from here."

"But saddling a horse can get so _loud_," remarked a silky voice far too close to them. Ganon, in full armour with his sword in his hand, detached himself from the shadow of a statue and gave Zelda a little bow. Impa pushed the princess firmly behind her. "What an honour to meet a Sheikah warrior," he said as calmly as if he were chatting at a banquet. "Your kind get rarer every day."

"We're far from extinct."

"Are you sure?" A tiny noise made Zelda look down. It was the sticky little splash of a drop of blood falling from Ganon's sword onto the floor. Rage flared up inside her; it was not something she had ever felt before. She went to step out from behind her protector, ready to scream, but Impa was faster and firmer than ever, holding her in place. "You may well be the last of a dying breed," Ganon told Impa. The smile never left his face. "If you wish to remain in any position to protect the girl, you will not stand between us."

"That seems a little contradictory." Impa's left hand slipped off Zelda's shoulder and into the pouch on the back of her belt in a slow, tiny motion. "Am I expected to trust you?"

"You? No. You are expected to follow your master like a good little guard dog. You, princess, I would like to trust me. Of course I understand that at present you may find that… difficult." The muscles on Impa's wrist moved in a manner that suggested she gripped something in the pouch. Zelda tried not to look there, but the alternative was Ganon's eyes. She met them coldly but found that once she had she could not look away. She felt like a mouse before a tiger. "You should go back to bed, princess," Ganon continued. "You'll sleep safely. We have made promises, after all. And in the morning things will seem a little clearer, and I shall explain-"

Impa's arm shot out. It was a deku nut, and the flash was almost blinding. Without ceremony the Sheikah picked her up and jumped through the window, smashing it as she went. They landed hard but the bushes below saved them from the worst of the fall, and without a pause for breath Impa picked Zelda up again and ran. Saddling a horse could be loud, but it was also slow. Once in the stable Impa opened the first stall she came to, pulled out a startled white horse and took only a moment to pat its nose and whisper something soothing before she flung the princess up on its back and climbed up behind her. Side-saddle was not an option, even if there had been a saddle; Zelda hitched her nightgown up around her knees and swung one leg over the horse, then with nothing else to hold on to wrapped the fingers of one hand around the horse's mane, clutching the ocarina tight to her chest with the other. Impa's strong arms wrapped around her and in a moment the horse went from still to full speed, heading for the town.

"The bridge will be raised," Zelda realised. Impa said nothing. There were few around at this time, but the guards that should have patrolled to keep the night safe were absent as well. The occasional scream cut into the darkness. "What's happening?" She already knew the answer, and that was why she only whispered it though it seemed to her the horse's hooves on the road were louder than the distant thunder. On and on through the town they went, and she saw as they passed it that the splintered remains of the soldiers' watch house hung from one hinge and the lamps were unlit. In her mind she was calculating how quickly Ganon would recover from the stun, find his own horse and chase them. Very quickly, she suspected. They were near the edge of town. Looking up, she saw a single light atop the wall. Impa raised a hand in greeting but did not slow the horse, and with a shudder and a creak the bridge began to fall. It was not fully lowered when they reached it, which did not stop them. She heard a shout above her and tried not to think of the fate of the soldier who had helped them escape, but then her frantic eyes caught another sight: a flash of light. A fairy on his shoulder. Link must have been waiting for the gate to open in the morning. He'd drawn his little sword and stared at her with questions in his eyes. He had the stones, she thought. He must have the stones. And the stones opened the door, but only with the other key. She did not have time to think. She barely had time to aim.

His eyes followed the ocarina as it landed in the moat, and then snapped back to her. She watched him over her shoulder until they passed the crest of the hill and the castle vanished into blackness and night.


	4. Chapter 4

Curled up in a little ball clutching her sheets like a doll, she could have been any ordinary child in any ordinary life. Impa sighed and reached down to pull the thick sheets up over Zelda's shoulders. She felt a little guilty for drugging the princess, but it was necessary. When she'd realised Impa had no plan beyond getting out of the kingdom she'd tried to throw herself off the horse. Well, they had to rest and so did the poor exhausted stolen animal, and she whispered a prayer of thanks that this safe house was still hidden from all but the eyes of the Sheikah.

There had once been hundreds of these dens scattered across the world. They had been built for travelling warriors as much as fleeing ones, and were secret and well-hidden and protected by many traps and tricks. Once every piece of land in Hyrule had been under the eyes of one or other branch of the Sheikah tribe, but things were different now. Their numbers had thinned, and the maintaining of the safe houses was no longer something they could spare men for. Some had been found, disarmed and turned into cattle sheds or little cottages, some had rotted away under the assault of the elements and some had simply been lost, so well hidden that once there was nobody left who knew exactly how to find them they would never be seen again.

But this was a little man-made cavern dug beneath a great tree, damp and rot kept away by the brick-lined walls, and so secure that even the blankets were almost dry. Here, on the edge of the Kokori forest, they were safe for at least one night. And tomorrow they could… what? She sighed. Escape, she thought. And then what? Go to Termina, go to Ascali, beg for aid. Perhaps. Or stay in hiding, or stay and-

Zelda mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over. Impa sighed and lay down beside her princess, lending out her body warmth. She knew exactly what she was going to do when the sun came up: whatever the child before her commanded. There was no point in dwelling on that now. She closed her eyes.

Zelda screamed, a cry of pure agony. Impa jerked upright and caught her thrashing arms, but as soon as her senses caught up to her body her nose told her of the burning smell in the room. She looked about but there was nobody there, and no sign of fire but the single lamp hanging by the door. She let go of one of Zelda's arms to try to soothe her, and saw what was on the back of her hand.

Three triangles stood out in sharp red against the white of the princess's skin in the shape of the Triforce, the emblem of the royal family and of the sacred realm. The smell was singed skin. Impa snatched up the flask of water beside the desk and tipped the whole thing over the princess's hand, and finally Zelda's eyes flew open. Breathing raggedly she stared first at her hand and then at Impa, and then went limp. Impa carefully lay her back down and gathered the damp sheets around her hand. "Princess?" She asked softly. Zelda nodded sharply, gritting her teeth. "What does it mean?" For all the trust the Sheikah held with the royal family, some knowledge belonged only in heads destined to bear crowns.

"It means…" Zelda pushed herself up on one elbow and looked down at her hand. "It means Ganon has entered the sacred realm and tried to take the real Triforce. And he's failed. It's broken into pieces and the pieces have attached themselves to new masters…" She winced. One of the three triangles was far more vivid than the other two. "Firmly attached," she mumbled, and pressed the cold wet sheet back against the burn.

"_That _is what the Triforce does?"

Zelda nodded. "When touched by someone unworthy, or impure of heart, it shatters."

"And Ganon?"

"One piece will have latched on to him, since he would have been the closest. The others have sought protection. One piece has come to me, probably because of my royal… royalty." She was going to say blood, Impa realised. She'd dodged the word well. "And the third… whoever it could find that seemed most worthy."

"Who might that be?"

"I don't know. The Triforce isn't just a thing, Impa. It's all the will and power left to us by the gods. It thinks for itself and makes its own decisions. Though there may be a chance it can be… corrupted…" she shivered. Impa briefly left her side for a fresh blanket, silently thanking whoever had last been here to maintain the place. Zelda looked pale and exhausted. She'd needed the sleep, Impa told herself firmly to stamp down the regret at drugging her. There was no food, but on the edge of the forest that was not likely to be a problem, and she had heard running water nearby. The Sheikah had put a good deal of sense into where and how they built their safehouses.

"Can Ganon still take the full Triforce?" She asked, partially just to keep Zelda talking. That haunted look in her eyes was worrying.

Zelda shook her head. "It won't accept him. He could piece it back together if both the parts he was missing were willingly given, or if he somehow took control of the seven sages, but it'd just shatter again as soon as he touched it. Still, one piece is all he needs. Through the sacred realm he can access every realm. There are things sealed in the dark realms that would answer to a man who bore even one piece of the Triforce. He can unleash some terrible creatures."

"What will we do?"

Zelda looked down at her hand again. Eleven years old, Impa thought bitterly. Where had she been when she was eleven? Well, already in training. She had been born and raised to the Kakariko branch of the Sheikah tribe, but most children of that age were helping their mothers with the cookery and running errands, still clutching their dolls. "We go to Termina," she said eventually. "We call up all of our allies to help us. They owe us that. We have always answered when they needed us." She leaned back into the pillow. "There's going to be war, isn't there?"

Impa nodded sadly. "It's the only way to avenge your father and regain the crown. It's yours now, yours by right. He won't give it up. We'll find another horse tomorrow, head directly for Termina. You'll need some new clothes, though. You'll have to travel in disguise. We both will. He'll be looking for you, and there are a lot of people near the borders who would attack anyone who looked wealthy. Don't worry, I can look after you as long as we-"

"My father is dead," Zelda said in a tiny voice. Impa stopped. The princess had rarely cried even as a baby, but the tears fell freely now despite the stillness of her face. Impa brushed back the princess's fine golden hair and left her hand resting on the back of that frail little neck.

It was easy enough to find the pressure point that made Princess Zelda slump back again. This time Impa's conscience did not complain at all.


	5. Chapter 5

The Princess of Hyrule spent the next day shivering naked under the sheets while Impa took her fine silk nightgown and hair ribbon into the nearest town and traded them away for supplies. She returned with plain clothes, battered and patched – trousers for her, a skirt for Zelda, shirts, cloaks and soft boots for them both, and a knife for the Princess as well, to be kept carefully hidden in her boot. "The Kakariko tribe never specialised in disguises," she said, opening one of the cupboards embedded in the wall, "but luckily the border tribes did." She pulled out a bottle of something black, poured it into a bowl of water and rinsed both their hair with it to darken the silver and blonde. Next she took out several boxes of powder, handed one to Zelda and started rubbing another into her skin. By the time they were done they were of almost the same skin and hair colours. "I am Sara Weaver," Impa said as they worked. "You are my daughter, Ruby. We're going to visit my sister in Termina. I'm hoping to find work there. My husband died recently of illness. Understand?"

"Ruby's too middle-class a name," Zelda said, checking that there were no gaps in the powder in her ears, her progress somewhat hampered by her bandaged hand. "Let it be… Shauna. That'll do. One of the castle town dressmakers had a daughter called Shauna."

Not letting it show how impressed she was, Impa nodded. It was not the first time she had had to change her looks, and she was much faster at it than the child. She had sewn one of the bed sheets into a sack and was now carefully wrapping her armour into strips torn from the other sheet, and packing it away. "It'll look suspicious if we're found with that," Zelda pointed out. Impa pursed her lips.

"Anyone who decides to search us has already decided who we are," she said eventually. "Besides, I can't leave it here. Sheikah armour is sacred. This suit has been passed down my family for three hundred years."

Zelda stopped what she was doing and knelt on the cold stone floor to touch one of Impa's unwrapped gauntlets, lying in wait next to a set of throwing-knives. "It all looks so new," she said quietly.

"It's almost impossible to break. Oh, parts might need replacing every few decades or so, but in essence…" she smiled, feeling a familiar stir of pride at the achievements of her tribe. "In essence this is the same suit my ancestor wore when we first took Hyrule away from the Dark." Silence fell between them. Just to break it, Impa continued, "Each of the Sheikah branch families has its own armoury, where its suits are kept – each with their own unique set of weapons – waiting to be inherited. When a Sheikah completes his or her training the teacher decides which suit to give them based on their skills and needs. Some suits go for decades without being worn. Others haven't rested for centuries. We're buried without weapons or armour. We hope we won't need them anymore. If a Sheikah falls in battle, retrieving their equipment is almost as important as retrieving their body. If you like I can tell you some of our stories about the exploits of these suits."

"So to you it's as if they have souls," Zelda said thoughtfully.

"Almost, yes. We believe a suit carries some of the strength and spirit of every warrior who has ever worn it, especially those who have died in it. To earn a suit we are required to learn its entire history."

Zelda picked up the gauntlet and examined it. Shining and smooth, it could have been fresh from the forge. "Has anybody died wearing this?" She asked quietly. Impa nodded again.

"Kheris, at the Battle of Kokori. Mylana, defending her king from assassins. Sannel, poisoned at a feast. Shae, at the Battle of Caana. I could tell you the centuries of history now known only to me and this suit. You understand, I can't just leave it behind."

"I understand. Besides," the princess said, handing back the gauntlet, "it's proof of who you are. Not many people would recognise me now." She looked back into the small, dirty mirror they had been using. A tanned, brown-haired, tired-looking peasant girl in a half-ragged dress looked back at her. She was caught between horror and admiration. "You'll have to do the talking," she added as an afterthought. "My accent…"

Before they left the safe-house Impa cleaned it thoroughly, re-filled the oil lamps and the log cupboard and scribbled something in the log by the door in the secret language of the Sheikah. Zelda asked what it meant, but Impa had shook her head and said that some knowledge was for the Sheikah warriors only. She kept her knives out, hidden in her cloak. Zelda had not been conscious when they arrived at the safe house, and as they left she saw Impa turn several hidden dials to lock the door, then throw a few fallen branches over the entrance of the safe house and, so doing, eradicate all sign of their time there.

"We won't always be so lucky with our shelter," Impa said as she lifted Zelda onto the horse. "We'll likely be sleeping under the stars most nights. We shouldn't stay at inns. I don't want us to be noticed."

They were noticed.

Impa had ridden through the night, taking the occasional swig of some special Sheikah potion to keep herself awake while Zelda dozed on and off in her arms. Impa had deliberately taken the longer path to avoid the towns, but near nightfall on the second day she found the road blocked by soldiers. They wore unfamiliar armour and carried the curved swords of the Gerudo, but their bearing said "soldier" as surely as any of the men who had died guarding Hyrule Castle. Impa cursed quietly under her breath and felt the princess stiffen in her arms. They spread across the road and the one she presumed to be their leader raised his hand in greeting. In the absence of reigns she lightly tugged at the horse's mane to stop it. The animal was well-trained.

"Evening, traveller," the leader called in Hylian tinged with a desert accent. "Name and trade?"

"Sara Weaver," Impa said in a convincing Lowland accent. "Widow."

"And where are you travelling?" They were all heading closer to the horse, which whinnied uneasily.

"Termina. Hoping I can find work with your sister."

"Mm." The guard came close enough that he could have reached out and touched them. "This your daughter?"

"Yes. Shauna."

"She doesn't talk?"

Impa put a protective arm around her. "Shy, is all." She looked around. "Don't often see these roads patrolled."

"The king's orders," the captain informed her. "There may be escaped convicts trying to cross the border." He looked at the horse. "No saddle?"

Impa snorted. "Some little brat in the stable at the last town stole it. Lucky the animal's well-behaved."

"Awfully good horse, for a weaver's widow."

"Is it?" Impa laughed. "And my husband just used it for hauling his things to market."

"Beautiful animal." He patted its neck. "Could have come straight out of the Hyrule Castle stables. I know a pedigree when I see one."

"Worth a lot, is he?"

"Not nearly as much as you are."

He wrapped his hand around the horse's mane, not tight enough to startle the animal but enough to discourage it from moving. The others had formed a loose circle around them.

"Princess Zelda," the captain said calmly, meeting her sharp blue eyes. "We will escort you home. Neither you nor your guard will be in any way harmed, so long as you co-operate. You did well to get this far."

"Your king murdered my father," Zelda replied, a coldness creeping into her voice that few people even three times her age could have mustered. "I hope he enjoys my throne. He won't hold it for long."

The captain's face darkened. "Walk or be dragged, girl. It makes no difference to me, but it could save the Sheikah's life." He reached out and took a handful of her cloak.

Impa moved so fast it took him a moment to realise what had happened. A thin line of red appeared around his wrist for a moment before his hand fell away. He stared at the stump of his arm for a second or two before realisation dawned and he screamed. Impa threw back her cloak, both daggers in her hands, sharp eyes darting about the circle of soldiers as they all drew their swords in one long ringing echo. "You dared to lay your hand on the rightful queen of Hyrule," she calmly told the captain. "Now it belongs to her. So will your head, if you think to defy her again."

"You're dead," growled the captain as he staggered backwards. "You're _dead_!"

Impa moved with incredible speed and agility. In one smooth move she had jumped down from the horse, slapped its flank with the flat side of one dagger and thrown the other into the neck of the man who had been trying to creep up behind them. Zelda barely managed to stay on the horse as it bolted; she threw herself flat against its neck and clung on with both arms, shouting over her shoulder but unable to stop. The last thing she saw before the horse dashed into the trees was the flash of steel as the Gerudo soldiers closed in on her bodyguard.


	6. Chapter 6

The singing of crickets, the hooting of owls, the snapping of twigs – she heard them all as if they were only feet away from her face, her hearing enhanced by the blanket of darkness that shrouded the forest as completely as though there were a blindfold on her face. Zelda clenched her jaw, determined not to cry. She was more afraid than she had ever been. She hadn't been able to stop the damn horse until the road was far behind them; she'd tried to turn back to the road but as the sun set and the moon hid behind thick clouds she was forced to admit that she was completely, hopelessly lost. She wanted to at least whisper to the horse to try keep him calm – he had already tried to throw her off once - but she could feel eyes and movement everywhere around her, and instead could only bring herself to pray silently that they would not notice her.

A wolf howled somewhere to the left of her.

The horse was shifting again. The crackling of dry leaves beneath his hooves seemed unbearably loud. Zelda sniffed. "Impa," she breathed. The horse grunted and she reached down to pat him but a nearby growling stopped her. It sounded like something big. She froze, but that was useless with all the horse's noise.

Another wolf howl. This one was a little closer.

She turned her head back and forth, trying to pick out some kind of movement in the darkness, but the moment she thought she saw something the horse beneath her gave a whinny almost like a scream, and threw her off his back. Her head hit the ground in a flash of pain and before she could even sit up she heard the gallop of his hooves as he ran, far away.

She tried to stand up, but had scraped her knee badly when she landed. It buckled beneath her. Probing it carefully, she was sure it was bleeding a lot. Her head was bleeding too, and there was a horrible pain in her arm that felt like it was swelling already. She tried once more to step up, fell again, and finally gave in to tears. It was like the bursting of a dam; within moments great sobs were racking her and she hugged herself as she rocked back and forth, gasping for breath while the tears ran down her face. At the third wolf's howl she snatched up a rock from the ground and threw it as hard as she could in the direction of the noise. "I don't _care_ anymore," she hissed, and then, whimpering, "Impa…" The moon slid out from behind the clouds. Zelda looked up.

A wolf was watching her.

As her eyes adjusted to the sudden break in the darkness she realised that several wolves were watching her. In fact they had her surrounded, but the one directly ahead of her was easily the biggest of the pack, a huge mass of shaggy white fur barely covering enormous muscles. The others growled and shifted and swished their tails back and forth, but the leader of the pack was perfectly still, watching her hungrily with his great yellow eyes. She met them and found she could not look away. _I do care,_ she chided herself sternly. _I care a lot._ She took one more shuddering breath and forced herself onto her feet. Her knee screamed in complaint, but this time she ignored it and, never breaking eye contact with the wolves' leader, carefully reached down and pulled the cheap knife Impa had given her out of her boot. She remained in a half-crouch out of instinct and some half-remembered self-defence lesson. She'd learned a few tricks on how to fight off men, not giant clawed and fanged beasts, and she'd never been much good even then. She could hear the other wolves drawing closer behind her, but was certain they would not attack until their leader had, and their leader would not attack until she broke eye contact.

Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she adjusted her stance and her grip on the knife. _My father is dead,_ she thought. _I am all that's left. Hyrule needs me to live_. She was unsure of what to do; something had to give, and the pressure in the air felt so thick it was practically crushing. She winced as the pain in her knee pulsed again, and realised she was about to die. The thought granted her a strange kind of comfort, and she suddenly understood the calm confidence which every Sheikah seemed to carry with them. Death was a certainty. Pride was a choice. She would die with pride.

As if the goddesses themselves had heard her resolve, lightning flashed, a great clap of thunder sounded and the skies opened, spilling such a deluge of rain that it obscured every sight and sound more than a few feet away. Perhaps the goddesses intended to save her life, for in that instant when the wolf-leader leapt he was blinded by the lightning, and when he knocked her to the ground he stumbled on the slick wet forest floor and rolled away.

The other wolves howled as Zelda scrambled to regain her knife, but did not have time to get up before the head of the pack jumped at her again. This time he knocked her fully onto her back, but she kept hold of her knife, and before he had a chance to close his jaws around her neck she stabbed him in the side, underneath where his muscles were thinner. His deep growl turned into a loud yelp as the blood began to flow; Zelda could barely see through the rain and the darkness, but she kept hold of the wolf's mane even as it clawed and scraped at her, and in the next flash of lightning she saw him clearly – silver-white coat now streaked with rain and blood – and plunged the knife into his neck. In one last frantic attempt he wrenched his head free of her grip and closed his teeth around her arm, but was already too weak to leave anything but a few shallow cuts before collapsing onto her, his last growl obscured by the crash of thunder.

The moon re-appeared, and Zelda remembered the other wolves. She tried frantically to wriggle out from beneath the giant corpse but all her strength was gone. One wolf growled at her, another snapped its jaws, and then one sat back on its haunches and howled. The thin, mournful sound defeated wind, rain and even thunder, and one by one every other wolf joined it. Then, without a second glance back at their dead leader or the young girl who had defeated him, they turned and sped away. With a gasp of relief, Zelda lay back and all of the pain that had been numbed by adrenaline returned to her. She tried again to climb out from under the wolf, but failed again, and in so doing spent the last of her strength. She did not know whether the fast-spreading darkness in her eyes was the moon's hiding back behind a cloud or the loss of consciousness, nor whether the human scream that sounded once all light had vanished was imagined. When arms closed around her and dragged her out from under the weight of the beast she was sure she dreamed it, and the last thing she heard before yielding to the darkness – "My child, my child, my child-" felt more like the long-ceased dreams of her departed mother than any worldly voice.


	7. Chapter 7

_Warm winds, the smell of flowers, the sound of running water and bird song. Zelda walked barefoot on the grass; the hills rolled all the way to the horizon on every side beneath the clear blue sky. Laying in a grove of flowers she found the young blonde boy sleeping, his head on a pillow of leaves. She knelt and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, and sighed. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never wanted you hurt." Then he was awake, and wrapped his fingers around hers._

_"It doesn't hurt," he said gently. "Nothing hurts." He showed her the back of his left hand. The Triforce was branded into the skin just as it was into hers, but it showed not as an angry red burn, but as a light golden glow. She glanced down at her own hand and saw she was the same, her bandages gone. He smiled at her. She smiled back._

_A hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to the feet, another around her neck, tight, too tight to breathe_, _and she could barely hear the distant howling of a wolf over the hammering of her own heart-_

The princess awoke with a gasp. It was an instant before she registered the pain in her head, arms, knee – everywhere. Close by she could hear thunder, and the pounding of rain on the forest floor, but she felt warm and dry, and could smell something cooking.

"You're awake." She opened her eyes. Impa leaned over her, a thin cut across one cheek but otherwise unharmed. The Sheikah smiled. "For a while I thought I'd lost you. There's a fire in you, child." Zelda tried to sit, realising first that one of her arms was splinted and second that she was wearing only Impa's cloak, wrapped twice around her. She glanced around and saw her own clothes drying by the small fire that lit the little cave.

"You're alright," she whispered eventually. Impa laughed and went back to the fire, turning the meat that hung over it.

"It takes more than a few badly trained Gerudo a thousand miles from home to bring down a veteran Sheikah warrior, child," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. Zelda smiled. "You, on the other hand, are lucky to be alive," Impa added. "Your head's not too bad and luckily your arm didn't break, but I think the bone cracked a little. As for your knee, there was a shard of rock stuck in it that wasn't easy to pull out. Seems like the ground did more damage than the wolf. What happened to the horse?"

"It threw me and bolted," Zelda admitted. "I thought I was going to die."

"You might have done, if I hadn't found you. A tasty snack for a wandering bear."

"Why didn't the wolves kill me?"

"You killed their alpha, their leader. The head of a wolf pack is the strongest wolf. To their minds anyone who can kill their alpha is too strong to fight. Well…" She thought for a moment before continuing. "Some people think they hold off killing the one who kills their leader out of respect, not fear. Some people." Impa looked over at her, then turned back to the fire and pulled out one of the chunks of meat that had been roasting on a stick. "I still say you're lucky to be alive," she added, but sounded thoroughly proud as she handed the stick to Zelda, whose stomach growled even as she took a bite. The meat was tough and strong-tasting, but it was hot and the first thing she had eaten in two days.

"I was so scared," she said eventually. "I thought you were dead, Impa. I thought I was about to die alone in a forest and get eaten by wolves."

"It can be funny, the way the wheel turns around." Impa took a bite of her own. "I had my final exam in the Gerudo desert. The Gerudo Sheikah have long since died out, of course, but they were some of the first I learned to fight. And that wolf was the first thing you've ever killed, wasn't it?" Zelda nodded, her mouth full. "First time you've ever caught your own dinner, too, I'll bet."

The princess spat out the half-chewed mouthful and stared in horror at the stick. "This is _wolf meat_?"

Impa laughed. "Well, the horse wasn't around anymore. Hunting in a storm like this is almost impossible, and you had a good clean kill right there. Trust me, it's better than dog at least." Zelda shuddered, then looked again at the stick of meat. Well, it had tried to kill her. She took another bite. "We'll have to wait out the storm before we go on to Termina," Impa said between mouthfuls of wolf. "I don't know this forest very well, so it's too dangerous to travel like this. I think we should stay off the road until we're well past the border. I hadn't expected Ganon to be this well prepared; they were already waiting for us. We shouldn't need money, at least. I'll teach you how to trap game if you like. It'll be a slower journey on foot, but we should make it to Carveh in about a month. We won't need to worry about feeding the horse, at least, and the only thing I have to carry is my armour."

"Sell the wolf pelt, if you can," said Zelda. "We can buy water skins and food. Damn, we could have traded the horse…"

"Princesses don't curse," Impa said pointedly. Zelda sighed.

"I'm not really a princess any more, am I? But I'm not a queen yet either. I'm nothing at the moment." She pulled the last of the wolf meat off the stick. "Why should the King of Termina help me when I'm no longer royalty? Wouldn't it be easier for him to leave Ganon be?"

"Easier, yes, but not right. Lie back, princess. You need your rest."

The storm lasted for three days, and it was a further three before they left the cave to continue on their way; Impa dried sticks of wolf meat for them to take with them, and eventually found some nuts and berries to take the taste away for a time. Zelda's wounds were healing slowly, and she still limped heavily on her injured leg. Impa had wanted to wait a while longer, but Zelda had insisted – as soon as she could walk again, they were on their long, slow way to Carveh, capital city of the Kingdom of Termina. The ground was slippery with mud and rotten leaves, and the nights were just as black as they had been, but with Impa by her side to protect her, Zelda got used to it all. The Sheikah was impressed at how quickly her little princess adapted to life on the road – or, far more difficult, life _off _the road. She never complained about the rocks beneath her as she slept, about the cold or the wet, the shabby meals or the insects that would crawl into her clothes at night. She didn't even say anything when one of her boots wore through; Impa only noticed it when the princess took them off to wash in a stream. She just marched on, silent and determined.

In truth her silence worried her protector; something had darkened in the child's eyes, and she seemed to have aged immensely in those past few weeks. "Revenge is no reason for war, princess," she told the child one night while checking her injuries; most were nearly healed, but the skin had twisted somewhat around her knee where the shard of rock had been. She'd set off walking again too soon, thought Impa with a sigh.

"You told those men I was a queen by right," Zelda said eventually. Her voice had grown quiet and a little cracked from disuse. "Yet you always call me princess."

"And you yourself said you were nothing. What do you want me to call you?"

"When you pulled me away from the wolf you called me your child."

Impa startled; she'd had no idea Zelda had still been conscious at the time, and gave a swift, silent prayer of thanks for the rain that had obscured her tears when she'd seen the girl laying blood-soaked beneath a giant wolf. "You try to distract me from the subject," she said eventually.

"Now so do you." Zelda sighed. "Call me Zelda. When we get to Carveh you can be formal again if you want to. You've relaxed, you know. Are Sheikah allowed to relax in the presence of their charges?"

"_Revenge_," Impa said firmly. Zelda sat back, wincing slightly as Impa probed the healing wound. "You'll never convince the King of Termina to lend you his army for it."

"No. I'll convince him to lend Hyrule his army to depose a tyrant and honour the vows he swore us, and his father swore before him. We have never dodged our duty to our allegiances. He'll lend us his army for Hyrule, his ancestors and his conscience." Impa almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then Zelda continued, "When I have that murdering traitor flogged through the streets and hung living from the castle gates for the crows to peck at, _that _will be for revenge."

"Sometimes you scare me, child."

"I'm not a child."

"You're eleven years old. Lately I have to remind myself of that."

"I stopped being a child the moment my father was killed. I became Hyrule. Now I'm just a vessel for her will and her protection. Father tried to explain that to me once, but I couldn't imagine him as a servant. He was servant to a nation, he said. I understand it now." She looked up, her eyes cold and hard as they had so often been of late. "I won't let revenge distract me from my duty to my kingdom," she said determinedly. "But nor will I let the opportunity creep by me."

"I'm at your service, Zelda. Don't put yourself in danger. You have me for that."

"Impa…" Zelda reached up and touched the Sheikah's face. "I could never do that to you. Enough people have died for my protection. Now you're all I have."

Unsure of what to say to that, Impa finished replacing the bandage in silence. She had never expected this. As a Sheikah she had learned how to survive in practically any situation the world could possibly throw at her, and then when she came of age she had worked in Kakariko, defending the town from the many creatures that crawled down from the mountains or up from the plains until the day the King had sent for a Sheikah warrior to protect his daughter. She had expected that to be her life, caring for the princess in the castle, seeing her become a queen when her father stepped down in his old age, guarding Zelda until the end of her days. Well, she thought, the situation may have changed but her duties had not. She had to protect the child, and serve her. She needed advice. For all her simmering anger and her determination, she was still just a little naïve. She still believed all men had honour, and all oaths were kept. In a day, perhaps two, the child would likely be bitterly disappointed in the King of Carveh. When they lay down to sleep that night, Impa wrapped her arms around the child and prayed that the Gerudo captain's dying boast that there was a price on Zelda's head in every between them and the sea had been a lie, but could not shake the feeling that she was escorting the child as good as a daughter to her into a snake nest.


	8. Chapter 8

They had been on the road for more than a month, and they were hungry. Impa had done everything she could to feed them both, but nuts and berries and wild mushrooms could only go so far, and there wasn't the time to hunt for meat. The further into Termina they went, the denser the population grew and the riskier it became to light a fire. It was Zelda who drove them on through wind and rain, despite her injuries and her slim little body so unused to such exertion. Impa had given up treating her like a child because she refused to act like one, and so the Sheikah and the princess marched on from dawn until dusk without ever stopping except to hide when strangers came by, eating whatever small handfuls they could forage, sleeping in caves and under trees with nothing but each other for warmth. It was, by Impa's count, forty days precisely since their midnight flight from Hyrule Castle when they finally reached Carveh, the castle city of Termina.

Zelda sat in the cover of the trees and watched the city's main gate as Impa changed into her Sheikah gear. She cleared her throat. "How will we get in?"

"I can get us to the castle," Impa replied. "Sheikah rights. I'll take you directly to the King. From there…"

Zelda looked down at herself – patched clothing, blistered feet, hands and legs scraped from weeks of trekking through undergrowth. Her skin and hair were darkened with grime, and her lips torn and ragged as her clothes. "Whoever would believe I am the rightful queen of Hyrule?" She wondered aloud, then sighed. "Well, I doubt a bath would help much. I have the royal songs, at least. And this," she added, lightly touching her hand. The burns of the Triforce had gone a long way towards healing, but she had no doubt she would carry the scar forever. She had wrapped a strip torn from her cloak around it as a makeshift bandage. "Though what that could possibly prove to someone who doesn't know the lore…"

Impa came out from behind the tree, looking far less filthy in her Sheikah gear. The blue of the fabric was bright and clean, the steel shining as though freshly polished. It was a scrap of rag that tied back her silver hair, but aside from that she almost looked fresh from the battlefield. "I can vouch for you," she said. "Any Sheikah would vouch for me."

"There are Sheikah in Termina?"

"Very few. Exiles, mostly. War criminals and their descendants no longer permitted into the land of Hyrule, but for the sake of their honour there are many who still serve."

"And we can trust them?"

Impa bit her lip, then sighed. "They'd chose you over Ganon, that much I can promise. As for the rest… well, it's clear you're no ordinary girl. Hopefully that will help."

They were halted at the gate by the two soldiers in attendance, one very young and anxious-faced and the other old, bearded and stern. Impa did not give them time to speak. "Sheikah business in the name of the throne of Hyrule. I'll thank you for a horse."

Both men were taken aback by her brusqueness. The younger moved to obey, but the older stopped him with a small gesture and looked Impa up and down, taking in her tribe clothing and lingering on the crest around her neck. "The king of Hyrule is dead," he said thoughtfully.

"His line has not ended."

The guard's eyes flickered to Zelda, who met them evenly, for the first time suddenly embarrassed by her filthy, ragged looks. She took a breath and straightened up, reminding herself who she was. _It's a state dinner_, she whispered in her mind. _Just another state dinner surrounded by people who think I'm some ordinary child. Just a few more people I have to prove myself to._ Her face must have changed somehow, for the guard frowned, and turned back to Impa. "You've come to see the King."

"Sheikah business," Impa repeated, her face impassive. The guard snorted.

"When I was a lad I asked my father what the Sheikah were. He said they'd searched so hard for the truth they forgot what they wanted to do with it. He said the truth froze their hearts." Impa remained still as a statue. The guard shrugged, then hammered on the door of the guard house and called for men to replace him. "I've heard a rumour that in certain circles there's a price on the heads of a lady Sheikah travelling with a young blonde girl. I'll escort you. I don't want murder on my streets."

"Have you ever heard of a Sheikah murdered on the streets?"

"It was a very high price."

He brought them out a horse each, but Zelda rode with Impa instead. As they traversed the wide, crowded cobbled streets the old guard, who introduced himself as Raley, told them how word had come by messenger bird of the fall of Hyrule several weeks ago, how the Gerudo lord Ganon had crowned himself king reagent in the absence of his fiancé, the last daughter of the royal line, and how he now had his men tearing the kingdom apart looking for her. "Gerudo are funny about betrothals, you see," Raley tried to explain. "By their laws it's the same as marriage, so if the royal line dies out he'd inherit everything as Princess Zelda's… well, her husband, in their eyes. And the desert tribes pillage each other all the time, they wouldn't see that as any reason to break off the engagement. They probably think that makes it official." He paused. "They say his mother's a witch."

Zelda said nothing, trying to remember what she could of Gerudo law. She knew that many of the tribes practised marriage by abduction, but that was all she could remember. After over a month of waiting for this moment, now she was having trouble focussing. The guards on the castle's front gates threw them puzzled glances, but did not challenge Raley.

The King of Termina was to be found in a lesser dining hall entertaining several guests. The guards on the door tried to stop them but with cold precision Impa knocked them both out of the way, shoved open the doors and marched into the hall, leaving the stunned Raley in her wake. Zelda followed with her head held high, trying to act thoroughly used to the situation. _Just another formal affair_, she told herself. _I'm wearing a gown and heeled shoes. I bathed this morning. I'm not at all hungry._

"I am Impa Sè Kakariko of the Sheikah tribe, servant to the true ruler of Hyrule. I present to you Zelda Adriana of the House of Harkinian, the rightful Queen of Hyrule, come to hold you to your family's vows. I suggest you put your dinner on hold."

She hadn't stopped or even slowed until she stood with her hands on the table, looking down at the king from barely a few feet away. Zelda did not rush to keep up with her, trying to appear calm instead. She had never seen that side of Impa before; the woman was frighteningly comfortable nose to nose with a king, giving barely disguised orders. For a moment he stared up at her, his fork halfway to his slightly open mouth, but recovered quickly.

"Thank you," he said firmly to his guests, who all sat or stood in varying states of shock. Many made for the door at once. A few made to protest, but the king only thanked them again, this time with a note of impatience, and waved them away. Only once they had all left did he rise to his feet. He was tall, far taller than Impa, and older than Zelda's father by a long way – white of hair and beard, but moving with confidence in his still-sturdy body. "Impa Sè Kakariko," he acknowledged her with a slight incline of his head, then looked past her to the child. He hadn't even seen her behind the Sheikah. "Princess Zelda?" He now asked incredulously. She bobbed a small curtsey, handling the torn skirt as though it were pure silk.

"King Eilon," she replied evenly. "I am afraid I do not recall our last meeting." With every word she regretted her days-long silences for the past few weeks; her throat was painfully sore and dry, and she did not realise how far her aristocratic accent had slipped until she made a conscious effort to return to it.

"Well, you'd barely learned to walk," he said, struggling to recover from shock. She looked for all the world like an orphan beggar, the kind a man held onto his purse as he walked past, but from that battered, thin little body came the voice of royalty, and out of that grubby face shone eyes more clear and intelligent than any he had ever seen. "Forgive me. Do you have proof of who you are?"

"I hardly expected you to recognise me," she said with a smile that drew a drop of blood from her cracked lips. "Unfortunately I had nothing but my nightgown when we fled the castle, but I offer you the word of this Sheikah warrior, sworn to the protection of my family. If that is not enough I can play you one of the family's sacred songs if you lend me a harp or ocarina."

The king glanced over at Impa, then looked again at the child, this time willing himself to see past the layers of grime. He imagined her clean and pale, hair shining golden and lips pink and full, her face a little rounder and not so drawn with hunger, her eyes without those deep black hollows beneath them. Yes, there it was. He smiled back at her. "Your fathers eyes watch me from your mother's face," he said simply, then gave her a deep bow, the slight flinch as he straightened the first sign he had shown of a body weakening with age. "I grieve for them both."

"So do I."

For a while he carried on just looking at her. Something about her puzzled him; she had to be, what, ten, eleven years old? She seemed so much older – not physically, but in other subtle ways. Something in her was dark and cynical as a veteran jailer. "I expect you'd welcome a bath, a hot meal and a soft bed before we discuss my family's vows," he said eventually.

"Thank you."

For the first time he acknowledged the old soldier still in the room. "Raley, see the princess treated with the greatest respect," he ordered. "Impa Sè Kakariko, you may go to the guardhouse and be welcome there."

Impa did not move. The tension she had sparked with her entrance began once more to gather like a cloud. "I serve the rightful queen of Hyrule," she said coolly. "Only she may dismiss me."

Zelda barely glanced back up at the king. "I prefer you by my side," she said simply, and felt more than saw the king's frown. Countermanding him in his own castle, she realised, was likely not the wisest thing she could have done, but as soon as the idea had been suggested she realised she could not stand the thought of being alone now.

After the princess and her Sheikah bodyguard had been led away Eilon sat back at his table and finished his meal, but found the succulent food suddenly unwelcome. She was who she said she was, that much was certain. But what to do with that? She was still so young. The child probably had some naïve notion that he would go to war for her and recover her kingdom. Overthrow the Gerudo sorcerer who had conquered the Kingdom of Hyrule in a single night? He took an uncharacteristically deep gulp of wine as he considered the thought. Certainly not – suicide, for the king and for Termina – but still, the girl was royalty. Perhaps he could shelter her, but he knew how avidly Ganon, who had already crowned himself King of Hyrule, was searching for his princess. Would he go to war to win her back? Would he rather kill her than risk her running free? The troublesome thing about exiled children, Eilon thought as he stared into the fire, was that if nobody dealt with them they tended to grow up. Dealt with them… and then another thought occurred to him. Pirates plagued the beaches, and the mountain watch towers were crumbling. His coffers were almost dangerously bare. He'd heard rumour of the sum this Ganon would pay for Princess Zelda dead. Just how much more might he pay for her alive? His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch when he realised that whatever the sum, it would probably come from Zelda's own family treasury. Eilon of Termina considered himself a man of honour. He spent a very long time considering what exactly that meant. After all, he realised as the fire burned low, almost everything was honourable to someone.


	9. Chapter 9

They shared the large bathtub; a month ago Princess Zelda would never have dreamed of being naked in anybody's company, but more and more as she was offered all the comforts of a royal residence she realised how little she had appreciated them before, and how much she had changed. She was suddenly impressed by things she had been used to all her life. The tub had to be refilled four times before Zelda and Impa were both clean. The water, almost painfully hot, worked to ease their muscles as they both lay submerged up to their necks breathing the sweet scent of the rich herbal candles lining the room. Zelda tried to take inventory of her body, something Impa had taught her to do after every mishap on their long journey, and was horrified to realise the full extent of the damage she had suffered. Her arm, only recently released from its sling, still stung at the slightest touch. The skin around the gash in her knee had healed strangely, a little twisted and pulled. Her hands and feet were in a terrible state, as were her lips, which were so dry and cracked that she felt them split further every time she ate, drank or spoke, not to mention all the weight she had lost. She ran a hand down her chest and felt each individual rib.

She found her eyes wandering over to Impa, who lay looking more relaxed than Zelda had ever seen her, head tipped back resting on the side of the tub, eyes closed. Now that her skin was clean and her hair had been returned to its natural gleaming white she looked no different than she always had. She had none of the shakes and tremors that Zelda had developed; her well-toned muscles were completely reliable, and always had been.

"You're used to travelling," she murmured. A slight ripple in the water indicated that Impa had stirred.

"It's been a long time," she replied eventually. "My last long journey was from Kakariko to Hyrule Castle, and it was a leisure-cruise compared to this. Plenty of food packed, warm clothes, camp every night…"

"Nobody wanting to kill you?"

Impa snorted. "Yes, that too. Before that the only long journeys I'd taken were from Kakariko to the desert for my training and back again."

"Why the desert?"

"Traditionally Sheikah do the first half of their training at home, then the second half and the final test with another tribe. That way our skills can spread between the families. When I trained the Gerudo and Kakariko were the only old Sheikah tribes left in Hyrule. Now the Gerudo have died out and there are only a handful of Kakariko left. If…"

"If any escaped the castle," Zelda replied. Impa looked down, and for the first time Zelda noticed that the red in her eyes was fading to a dull brown.

"The last of a dying breed," Impa muttered to herself.

The bed was unbearably soft, plump with feathers and awash with silk. She dragged the sheets onto the carpet and slept there instead. After weeks of sleeping on dirt floors and in caves it still felt like a luxury. The next morning she was so stiff she could barely move; Impa had to help her to the table to eat, and once the food was in front of her it took all of her self-control not to eat herself sick. A dress had been laid out for her. Pink. She had no idea where it had come from; all of Eilon's children were long since grown and wed. Impa laced her into it, herself wearing her Sheikah gear, and stood behind the princess when a man came bearing the king's offer to let Zelda rest and recover for another day before meeting with her. Zelda was both irked and relieved at the offer; she knew she was in no state to be handling a task of such importance, and the rest and luxury had, if anything, weakened her mind and awakened her to the pain of her body. To pass the day Impa showed her a few Sheikah training tips, ways to loosen damaged muscle and build up endurance. "During training I had to do this sequence before every meal," she said, correcting Zelda's stance.

Zelda repeated the exercise, already feeling a little better. "What will the king say?"

"Who knows? You should be as honest as you can with him, princess. Don't let him forget our treaties. Remember, Hyrule is your kingdom by right. Those oaths are owed to you."

"He has to help us."

"Kings are bound by honour. Queens, too," Impa added as an afterthought.

The King of Hyrule whirled around at the knock on his door. "Well?" He snapped impatiently as the armoured soldier knelt before him.

"My king, I bear news of-"

"Skip the formalities. Did you find her?"

Commander Akhan winced. His king was angry enough already, and on the rare occasion that he let go of his highly honed self-control there tended to be blood. Soldier or no, nobody was safe from the king's wrath.

"She crossed the border into Termina a month ago. We have a man on the main gate of Carveh ready to alert us if she enters the city. The Sheikah is still with her, we think."

"A _month_?"

"The patrol that found them were almost all killed by that Sheikah of hers. There was only one survivor, and travel has been hard for him with no horse and no right hand. The Sheikah bade him tell you…"

"Go on."

"'Don't get comfortable', my king. That was the message."

"And where is this lucky survivor now?"

Akhan paused. He'd risen to this level of authority because he was incredibly good at anticipating his master's orders, but now he wondered if he had acted appropriately. "He… he failed his orders, fled a battle alive and can no longer wield a sword. He was punished." He dared look up, but saw the twitch of a smile at the corner of his king's mouth.

"Good. Hang his body for a while where the men can see it. They need the warning."

"Already done, sire." There was a pause. "Do you have new orders for me?"

"Station a garrison a little way outside of Carveh. If she reaches the king they won't be able to reach her in the castle, but when she realises he won't help her…"

"Murdered on the road?"

"I told you, I want her alive. You can't get to Carveh before her, but if she leaves the city and you have the opportunity, take it. But kill the Sheikah. She's been too much trouble. In the meantime carry on searching the kingdom. There's a small chance she doubled back, and even if not… it does well to show these peasants my power."

Akhan nodded, but something held him from getting up. He hesitated long enough for his king to snap impatiently, "_What_?"

"I… my king, perhaps I should go."

"To track down one little girl and her nanny? No, I need you here. They're talking about rebellion. Send a garrison."

"That nanny is a Sheikah warrior," Akhan said quietly. He instantly regretted it, but the king only sighed.

"Then send two garrisons. Hylian exiles always scurry off to Termina, don't they? See if we can acquire one of our own. _Go_. Make arrangements."

After Akhan had left, Ganon wandered over to the table where the royal crown of Hyrule lay on a velvet cushion. As he reached out to touch he felt a twinge of pain on the back of his left hand, and glanced down at it. The burn had left a scar on his hand, standing almost white against his dark skin; the Triforce. He could have sworn in the brief moment between his touching it and the damn thing disappearing he had felt its revulsion. He'd been thrown from the Sacred Realm and the Temple of Time had sealed itself shut behind him. He'd given up trying to break through; it was sealed by more than brick and mortar. When he got the girl back she would tell him how to take its power properly. She would tell him a lot of things. She would also apologise for the trouble she had caused. On her knees. No, face down on the floor before her father's throne. He needed the world to see her submit to him. It was the only way these damn Hylians would ever follow him out of anything other than fear.

Why had she run? He traced the leaves of gold with the tip of one finger. It was the one thing he hadn't counted on. Oh, she might have tried, but there were _supposed _to be men come to lock her in her room as soon as the killing started. She wasn't even supposed to know about it until morning. He needed her for his trophy, a symbol of his victory, and she'd slipped through his fingers with barely a struggle. _Damn Sheikah_, he thought viciously. He'd killed as many as he could find, and though they weren't easy to kill he suspected there were now none left except the one trailing after Zelda. He'd met her eyes only once, a casual glance across a room. The woman had put more fierce warning into that look than he had thought possible. He shouldn't have ignored it, he thought angrily. He should have gotten rid of her first.

He hated the crown. It was all leaves and lattice in elegantly swirling gold, too soft, too damn poetic. He picked it up; it took only the barest effort to bend the soft metal until it broke. He would have it re-forged.

He smiled again. He would have the whole damn kingdom re-forged


	10. Chapter 10

Zelda's hands shook as she gripped the cup of water. They had been shaking constantly for days. She went to take a sip, but caught sight of her own reflection – it still took her by surprise, even after nearly a week of excellent care – and looked up instead, meeting the steady eyes of King Eilon. She had just finished telling him the full story, from Ganon's first invitation to the palace, through his betrayal and her escape right up until the moment she had burst into Eilon's dining hall. She had omitted only a few things – her possibly prophetic dreams, the Triforce burned into her hand (something she had been careful not to let anyone else see), the extent of her anger. She had tried to remain calm and detached throughout the whole account. At least her voice had recovered.

"I'm so sorry for your suffering," Eilon whispered. Zelda nodded silently. "I want to help you, princess." She bit back a sigh of relief. "Unfortunately there isn't much I can do." She bit back a growl of anger.

"You have an army, your majesty," she said quietly. "An army which your father swore to my grandfather was at the disposal of Hyrule if ever we needed it, in the aftermath of the pirates' attempted invasion of Termina. The invasion your father could not have beaten back without the aid of my family. I ask you to honour that promise, and come to my aid now."

"Princess, you must understand that we were being attacked from a single direction. Your kingdom is infested from the borders to the castle itself. It's not as simple as holding back an army."

"I never thought it would be simple," Zelda said flatly. "But I did think you would respect the memories of the Hylian soldiers who died defending your coasts, and protect their homeland as they protected yours."

"I do. Princess, I do, but I also care for the lives of my people and I won't throw them away in an unwinnable war."

"Unwinnable?"

"Yes, Zelda, unwinnable. Even if I could lure the Gerudo out into the open field against my men, I would be out-numbered and out-matched. We have not seen war for generations. The Gerudo are a warrior race. I doubt your own armies are still standing. Forgive me. I have no doubt you would be willing to throw your life away for the kingdom but I would not, and neither would I ask that of my men."

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, sat back and took control of her temper. "Will you not try?" She asked eventually, already knowing the answer. He shook his head, and she realised why it had taken so long to get to speak to him. Cowardice, she realised. He hadn't wanted to face her and say he would not keep his vows.

To her surprise he reached across the table and took her trembling hand in his wrinkled old grip. "I said I would help you, Zelda," he said softly. "I intend to. Only, not like this."

"Then how?"

"I have many years behind me. I can offer you wisdom and counsel."

She met his eyes, and found herself suddenly struck with the ridiculous urge to cry. She forced it aside. "What do you suggest?"

He looked at her for a long time, as if unsure of whether or not to speak, but eventually he said in a voice so quiet it could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire, "go home."

She snatched her hand out of his grip. "_Home_?"

"Back to Hyrule. Give yourself up to Ganon. He's already made it known that he wants you back alive. He intends to honour your betrothal." Zelda was on her feet before he had finished speaking, and halfway to the door when he called after her, "Think of the lives you could save!"

She stopped.

"Think, Zelda. You would be his queen, as you were already meant to be. Your kingdom will be loyal to you as it was to your father. With you at his side Ganon would not need to bloody the kingdom into submission." When she remained still he added, in a softer tone, "how many of your people have died for you already?"

Zelda's mind was racing. _If I had stayed in bed that night_, she thought, _Impa would be dead. But the rest of them? Soldiers, servants, the guard who lowered the gate… if I had ordered them to surrender_… And then her mind hit a wall. She turned slowly to meet the eyes of her fellow monarch.

"Go home?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, Zelda."

"Marry Ganon to reclaim the throne that is mine by right?"

"It may be hard, but in time you will-"

"Get into bed with the man who murdered my father?" She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind her. Impa immediately materialised out of the shadows and fell into step with her.

"He won't help us," she said without a trace of emotion as she tracked the way to their rooms. "He wants me to-"

"I was listening."

"We can't stay here. He stopped calling me princess as soon as he realised I wouldn't bend. A man like Eilon always has something planned… I don't think we're safe."

"I know we're not." Impa glanced about the deserted corridor, then leaned down to her princess. "He's sent a message to Ganon. He means to either sell you or ransom you if he can't persuade you to go home of your own accord."

"_Damn_." Zelda kicked a decorative stand of spears and sent them all clattering to the floor. With a gasp Impa pulled her away from the antiquated but well-maintained metal. "How do you know these things?" She asked eventually.

"Sheikah tricks," Impa replied. "Harder to explain than most. Come. We'll have to leave quickly."

"Not _too _quickly," came a male voice from behind them. Impa had her hand to her knife as she spun around to face Raley, but there was no malice in the old soldier's eyes. "You already know," he said sadly. "I saw the messenger out of the city. I was just coming to warn you."

"Why would you warn us?" Asked Zelda, staying behind Impa's protective arms.

Raley shook his head, meeting her eyes with what she believed to be an honestly sympathetic gaze. "My daughter's your age, your highness," he said slowly. "She worries about boys and chores and her lessons, while you carry a kingdom on your shoulders. And you're thinner than she is. I'll not see you sold."

Zelda blinked. "Instead?"

"Instead, your highness, you and your guard go upstairs and get some rest. At midnight I'll have two horses packed and ready for you at the North gate with food, blankets, tents… well, you'll have a much easier journey than the last, wherever you're going. Do you know where you'll be going?"

"Are you sure you won't be found out?"

"Don't worry yourself about me, highness. I'll call in a few favours. Just… remember me when you've got your throne back, alright?"

Zelda touched Impa's arm lightly; Impa sheathed her half-drawn knife and stood at ease. Zelda took a few steps towards Raley. "What's your full name, soldier?" She asked softly.

"Raley Krellbourne, son of Alby, your highness. Why?"

"Because, Raley Krellbourne, son of Alby, you are a knight of Hyrule by order of its queen. When I have power again, come to me for whatever you may need. I will provide."

* * *

Zelda and Impa slept from mid-afternoon to sunset, then sat and considered for the few hours they had to wait. Impa stole some boys' clothes from the servants' washer-room; Zelda had long since let go of her uncomfortable feelings about both Impa's thieving and her skill at doing so. The clothes were plain and simple but of a good quality, not patched or frayed like her last set. She changed out of her gown but kept the well-made boots, and bound her hair at the base of her neck tucked into the back of the tunic to disguise the length of it. Checking a mirror, she sighed at how easily she passed for a boy.

"You're thin, that's all," Impa said as if reading her mind. "At your age it's only clothes and hair that point out the difference anyway."

"I don't look like a queen of anything."

"Wait, child." A wry smile came to Impa's lips. "Enjoy it while it lasts. All too soon you'll have a woman's body and all the problems that go with it. Best you pretend to be a boy for as long as you can. It makes you easier to hide."

Zelda sighed, swinging the long cloak around herself. At least these clothes were clean and soft on her skin, and they did fit her, albeit a little loosely. "I was thinking about where to go next," she said, pulling up the hood and adjusting it to hide most of her face. "I don't think we should go to Ascali, or any of the other ally kingdoms."

"No?"

"They'll all say the same thing. Impa, is there any such thing as an honourable man?"

"I've known a few. Your father, for one. But I'll admit, they're rarer than kings."

"So for now I'll give up on men."

"What do you mean?"

"The Zora are still struggling to hold their coastal settlements, but the Gorons and the Deku have their own cities within Termina. Goron have always honoured friendships and alliances. I've never dealt with the Deku before, but… I'll just have to take the risk. The Deku swamp is closer. We'll go there first."

"As you wish."

Something in Impa's tone made Zelda turn, sit beside her and take both her hands. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for everything. I'm sorry for what I put you through. I'm sorry for the road ahead of us, and for what you've suffered for-"

Impa's fingers wrapped around hers. "Don't be," she said firmly. "I am a warrior of the Sheikah, sworn to your protection. I will always guard you, child. You don't need to thank me or apologize for my duties. I was born to them."

* * *

In the end it was easy – nothing at all compared to the last time they had fled a castle. Already disguised and well-rested, Zelda and Impa slipped out of a servants' passage and left the castle unseen from a door near to the kitchens, then dodged and wove their way through the city, avoiding all other humans, to reach the North Gate. There they found that Raley had kept his word; not only were there two good horses saddled and packed for a long journey, but the young soldier who had been guarding with Raley the day they met, the only one in attendance at the gate. "Good luck to you both," he whispered as he closed the heavy oaken door behind them. Zelda thanked him, and gave a silent prayer of thanks for everyone in Termina who had helped them so far – all save the king. She thanked the young soldier for his wish of luck too, certain that they would need it before the end.

* * *

Eilon, King of Termina, looked sadly down at the crumpled, empty bed, the small items of loaned jewellery sitting on the table, the pink gown neatly folded on a chair. He had half-expected her to try to run, but never to actually manage it. Every gate out of the city was guarded, and at any rate he'd judged her still far too weak to even attempt to travel for a long time yet. His mind wandered to the message he had already dispatched to Ganon, the famously ruthless new king of his neighbouring kingdom, and with a sigh of resignation he turned to the chamberlain stood in silent attendance behind him. "See that our young informant is appropriately rewarded," he said. "And contact the Sheikah settlement at Gharan. I have work for them."


End file.
